


A Mother's Rage

by filamero



Series: The World of Emotions [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: /hj, Angst, Angst and Feels, Anyways, Dream SMP Lore, Dream Team SMP Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Dream is their son, Family Angst, Family Drama, Family Dynamic, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Hurt No Comfort, Mother-Son Relationship, No beta we die like lmanburg, Puffy and Niki are moms, Villain Niki | Nihachu, i am back with yet another parent issues fic, ish, not gonna lie i still have no idea how to tag the works in this series and theres only two so far, way too many comparisons to fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:35:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28952805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filamero/pseuds/filamero
Summary: It is often said that a mother’s rage is incomparable with anything else in the world.Fierce, scalding, passionate as long as its coals are fanned.A mother’s rage is a force to be reckoned with.—In which Niki thinks about her son, from both the past and the present.
Relationships: Cara | CaptainPuffy & Clay | Dream, Cara | CaptainPuffy/Niki | Nihachu, Clay | Dream & Niki | Nihachu
Series: The World of Emotions [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123397
Comments: 3
Kudos: 135





	A Mother's Rage

**Author's Note:**

> hello, this was written on a whim
> 
> severely unedited as it is currently 1:21 a.m. and i started writing this about three hours ago; i apologize for any grammar, spelling, or general english mistakes
> 
> aaaanyways, enjoy [:

It is often said that a mother’s rage is a type of anger that burns bright and hot. It decimates anything that decides to get in its way, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake. Mightier than the worst of storms, drawing energy from deep within the heart and soul, strong enough to make even the most powerful bow down to its will—It is said that nothing in the world could ever compare. Fierce, scalding, passionate as long as its coals are fanned.

A mother’s rage is a force to be reckoned with.

Niki remembers the night that Puffy brought Dream home with her. 

She was surprised that their windows were holding their own, the rain pounding down so hard on the glass that it sounded like the knocks of a madman looking for shelter. The waves on the nearby shore came crashing angrily, filling the air with loud noises to accent the booms of thunder that seemed to shake the ground. Her feet had led her outside, standing at her door and looking out for Puffy, just in case the former captain would need help carrying supplies home. She was glad that she had listened to her instincts after seeing her strikingly red overcoat—in comparison to the blues, browns, and beiges that characterized their home—amidst the raging droplets of water. Tucked into the shorter woman’s arms was a small child, clinging onto her as if his life depended on it.

She didn’t even bother putting on her shoes before lifting up the skirt of her dress and scurrying to aid her.

“Puffy!” Niki cried out once she was close enough, using her arms to shield herself from the rain. Her efforts were in vain though, her own hair and clothes beginning to match the state of her lover and the boy in her arms. “You’re both soaked…Come hurry back home,” she frowned, the chill of the air already nipping at her skin through the material of her sleeves.

“It’s a little hard to run like this, Niki,” Puffy joked lightly, bouncing the child and the bag of traded supplies to prove her point.

Pursing her lips, Niki held her arms open and sighed, “I’ll take one, we just need to hurry before it picks up even more.”

Puffy nodded, loosening her grip on the boy and looking at him. He looked almost reluctant to let her go, his own hold on her tightening when he felt himself slipping. “Hey, hey, now,” she cooed softly, giving him one of the softest smiles that Niki’s ever seen on her face. “This is Niki, she’s a...really good friend of mine.” (Niki would’ve snorted in laughter at the description, but she had higher priorities that distracted her from the comical part of things.) “I trust her lots, so she isn’t going to hurt you, Duckling, okay?” The boy hesitated for a moment more before slowly turning to Niki and extending his arms to her instead.

Niki put on a soft smile of her own, taking him from her arms and not wasting a moment to go running towards the safety of their cottage. She used her arms and head to shield him from the rain; he already felt light and thin in her embrace, something told her that a storm like this one could easily make him fall ill without trying. Relief coursed through her veins once the sand and gravel underneath her feet became wood, opening the door with practiced ease and stepping inside. She couldn’t have been in the rain for more than a few minutes, yet the material of her dress clung to her skin almost as much as the boy in her arms held onto her neck. Water dripped from both of their soaking figures on the floor. The boy watched guiltily as the fallen droplets began to pool into small puddles, but Niki only combed her hands through his hair and tutted her tongue. “We can worry about that later,” she hummed, carrying him to the washroom.

The tiles of the bathroom were cold against her feet as she leaned over the tub to get some warm water running. She set him down carefully, taking extra care to let him stand on an extra towel instead of the floor. “Do you mind taking off your clothes?” she asked softly, making a twirling motion with her hand. “I can turn around while you do, if you’d like. Privacy is important, after all,” she smiled, already making a show of turning halfway to let him know she was serious.

He slowly nodded his head, and she turned around all the way.

His clothes hit the floor in an almost hilarious ‘splat!’, though Niki made sure to keep any bouts of laughter to herself. After a few moments, she felt a small tug on the end of her dress, accompanied by s soft, “I’m done, miss.”

“Do you think you can get in the tub yourself?” She asked softly, still facing away from him and looking at the wall. “Or do you need my help?”

A beat of silence. “Can I have a little help? Please?”

Niki felt herself mentally coo. “Of course.”

She turned around fully, hooking her arms underneath the boy’s and lifting him up once more, easing him into the warm water. His eyes lit up with a certain glow, immediately sinking further into the warmth—and Niki couldn’t help but chuckle softly to herself. 

“Thank you for letting me use your hot water, miss.”

Niki grabbed a small bucket off of the bathroom shelf, dipping it into the water and gently pouring it atop his head to start washing him off. “I appreciate your politeness,” she chuckled, leaning over to grab the shampoo, “but you don’t have to be so formal. My name’s Niki.”

“That’s a pretty name,” he murmured softly, and she could see him playing around with the water a little.

“Mind if I ask yours?”

“Dream.”

Niki smiled. “That’s a lovely name as well.”

Dream had ended up falling asleep as Niki washed him off, her heart swelling with a certain fondness for the boy she just met. Gentle with wrapping him up in a towel and heading to the bedroom to scavenge something for him to wear, she set him down on their bed to sleep soundly. It was hard—even if she and Puffy weren’t the largest people themselves, Dream was much too small and young to be measured by their standards. (And don’t get her started on trying to find underwear that wouldn’t potentially embarrass him by wearing it.) The smallest she could find was an old pair of shorts and a shrunken shirt from a laundry mishap, being careful not to wake him up as she slipped them on for him. Tucking him into the covers and changing into another pair of clothes herself, she made sure to shut the curtains and close the door softly as she retreated to the kitchen.

Puffy met her in the kitchen—while she was midway through cooking soup—also changed and dried off. 

A conversation or two later, Niki found out how exactly Puffy knew Dream.

There was an ache in her heart, imagining just how long he must’ve been alone. Everyone had their own lives and worries, but she couldn’t help but ask herself why no one thought to help him out sooner. A kid, who couldn’t have been any older than six. People ran their businesses differently, she was aware of that too—but that vendor couldn’t have let losing profits of one loaf of bread slip and instead chose to chase after the poor boy? The ache grew into a small seed of bitterness at the thought, tugging her lips into a growing frown. The heat emitting from the stove furnace mirrored the one threatening to ignite in her veins, though her thoughts were interrupted by the gentle patter of footsteps into the kitchen.

She turned her head to the side to see Dream looking bashfully down at his feet, playing with the hem of his clothes. “Miss Niki?” he asked softly, standing on his toes and attempting to look into the pot. “I’m a little hungry…”

Niki smiled, the sparks of anger at unknown faces extinguishing before they could even ignite. “Soup’ll be done in a minute, Dream. Say, why don’t you and Puffy set the table, alright?”

Puffy held her hand out to him, and the pair scampered off into the conjoined living-dining room.

They had their first ‘family’ dinner that night.

Niki managed to work Dream into her schedule perfectly; he was a delight to be around. Though it took a little bit for him to warm up to her, their relationship eventually became like Puffy’s and his: a mother and her son. She was fond of the days that he chose to stay home, begging her to let him help her bake. An occasional crack of the egg here, a mixing the ingredients together there. Nothing too hard, and nothing that he couldn’t handle.

One day, while she left the kitchen to go grab a damp cloth from the kitchen to clean with, a loud shattering noise quickly brought her back. Shards of the plate that she had set her cookies on laid scattered on the ground, the cookies semi-piled where the plate must’ve made the first contact. Dream stood sheepishly at the wreckage, putting on a tight smile and folding his hands behind his back. “I…I wanted to try one.”

Niki put her hands on her hips, and Dream shrunk a little more into himself. “Dream,” she started off, her voice gentle yet stern. “You should’ve waited for me to come back.” Leaning down and opening one of the cabinets, she pulled out a hand broom and dustpan. Careful not to step on the shattered porcelain, she continued, “I would’ve come back in only a few seconds. There was no need for you to rush.”

“Sorry, Niki,” Dream mumbled, his voice impossibly quiet. She would’ve missed it if the sound of glass dragging against the tiles would’ve been even just a smidge louder. Saying that she hadn’t been a little annoyed would’ve been a complete and utter lie; slight irritation did simmer beneath her skin for a moment. But seeing the genuine look of regret written on Dream’s features, slouched posture, and soft tone to his voice made that small bout of temper dissipate. She sighed softly, shaking her head and carefully making her way towards him.

“I’m just being cautious,” she explained softly, taking his hands into her own and crouching down to be in his line of view. “I’d hate for you to get hurt, Dream. You’re my little duckling,” she chuckled, tapping the tip of his nose and reveling in the subtle but clearly there perk up of his lips.

“You’re not mad?” he asked, tilting his head to the side a little.

Niki pinched his cheek and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I could never.”

A flash of stark white porcelain brings Niki out of her thoughts. Her grip is impossibly tight on the flint and steel in her hands, the metal warming in her grasp. Not too far in front of her, explosives rain down from an eerily perfect obsidian grid in the sky, deepening the crater that replaced New L’manburg. Though it is high and far beyond her reach, she catches glimpse of a figure—clad in a green sweater and dark jeans—navigating his way across them with an expert’s ease. The sight alone was enough to make her blood begin to boil, her heart igniting with a strong fire that couldn’t be matched by anything she’s ever witnessed.

For Niki isn’t mad.

She’s livid.

At what, you may ask?

Well…

Everything.

Especially at the events of the world that led to the current moment. A plethora of wars, failed elections, and countless conflicts piling on top of one another and shaping L’manburg into something painfully unrecognizable. The place she had come to love as her home was now something that she felt no connection to. Hell, there was a twisted satisfaction curling in her gut as seeing it all come tumbling down in flames. The country was already ruined beyond belief in her eyes, and to finally see something so insufferable, so unlikeable, so infuriating meet the fate that she wanted so desperately to come.

She doesn’t realize that she’s ignited the flint and steel until the flames’ tendrils reach out to her, warmth caressing her face. Taking a step back, she watches as the ‘L’mantree’—the only natural tree of the land left standing—gets overtaken in splashes of red, orange, and yellow. An ironically beautiful ‘sunset’ in the midst of all the chaos and destruction.

Niki feels the fire grab ahold of her, tendrils curling around her limbs and sinking in through her skin—but it doesn’t burn. Instead, it rages through her veins and heart, crying out with a feeling that she was foreign to. Not a single tear dares fall, and if one tries to, the heat of her wrath seems to evaporate it without even giving it a chance to start running. She lifts her hand up into a salute as the tree goes down, but solemn is far from what she is feeling. It’s almost as if she had taken her sword by the handle and sliced clean through the ropes of the bridge that connected her to her past, her now-empty promises, her memories of long-ago whose importance scorched away into nothing. They didn’t matter to her anymore, and as she watched the bridge fall and burn away into ashes, she’s sure that it never will matter to her again.

Her eyes drift up to the obsidian sky once more, landing on a figure—wearing a stark-white mask with a poorly scribbled-on smile—sitting casually atop it. Watching, as if it were a Saturday-morning television show. Grinning, as if nothing else in the world could be more amusing. Laughing, as if everything were just a game to him, and everything could be reset with the simple click of a button.

Niki grits her teeth, the fire of anger within her suddenly blazing into an inferno.

Dream.

What had happened to him?

Her sweet little duckling, one that she said she could never get mad at, had thrown a lit match straight into a sea of gasoline, and Niki just so happened to be sailing in the midst of it.

The fond memories that should fill her with sorrow at witnessing such a drastic change in her son only ignite white-hot fury, seizing her mind until all she can see is red. She can’t remember the fuzzy sensation that would overtake her senses whenever she heard him laugh brightly at a joke that she or Puffy made. She can’t remember the warmth that bloomed in her chest whenever he would cuddle up to her side and fall asleep ever-so-peacefully in her embrace. She can’t remember the fondness that would bring a smile to her face whenever she saw him grin toothily at her from across the room. Dream has long been thrown out of her heart, back into the harsh storm that she sheltered him from all those years ago.

And she hopes it stays that way.

No son of hers was going to be known as cruel, unforgiving, manipulative—everything that she raised and expected him not to be.

Niki takes a deep breath and spins around, not a single ounce of hesitance in her step as she walks away from the scene. From the burning tree of what once was, from the large crater of her former home, from the man who looked identical to her son yet was completely different in every way imaginable. 

She pictures him in her head: scarred face obscured by the unbelievably aggravating smiling mask at all times; tousled, dirty-blond locks that were beginning to grow just past his shoulders; eyes that could pierce sharper than a poison-tipped arrow; and a malicious smile that she wanted to tear right off of his face whenever she saw it. She compares it to the son that she loved way back when: freckled face with rounded cheeks; wavy, borderline-curly hair that he always begged to get braided by his mothers; eyes that were friendly and filled with a child-like wonder; and a big, impossibly contagious smile brightened her day whenever it came out to say ‘hello!’

Each note of a difference was just another coal tossed into the overheating furnace, and then and there is when Niki makes up her mind.

She wants that man—that stranger that killed her son, took his face, and replaced him—dead and gone. To meet the same ill-fate that L’manburg met just moments before this one. She doesn’t care how it happens; through the powers of nature, by the weapons of all the people that he crossed, or even by her own two hands if it came down to it.

A crack of thunder booms and echoes in her ears, a bolt of lightning striking nearby but steering clear of Niki’s path.

For even nature knows that a mother’s rage is a force to be reckoned with.


End file.
